


Cloudy, with a chance of friendship

by owlaholic68



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Canon Lesbian Character, Courier Lynn, F/F, Injury, M/M, Mild Language, Multi, Not a Modern!AU, Romance, Spoilers for DLC, Spoilers for main questline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: In this bleak post-apocalyptic world, one small flower shop in Freeside struggles to stay afloat.





	1. Chapter 1

The rusty bell over the door jangles.

Veronica looks up with a start from her book. This is her first customer of the day. The July heat keeps people inside and away from her door.

“Hello, welcome to Fab Flowers,” she says. “What can I help you with today?”

The customer, an attractive young woman, is wearing a set of plain leather armor. “Uh, this is a flower shop?”

“Yes?” Veronica answers, taking note of the way the woman squints at the displays behind cracked glasses. “Do you need flowers?”

“Oh, sorry, I was just surprised to see a place this nice in Freeside.” The woman shrugs. “Didn’t think the locals were that fancy.”

“Not really.” To be honest, only the more well-off Freeside citizens visit her store. It’s the casinos on the Strip that really keep her afloat. “But even the miserable need something to brighten their day. And what about you?” Veronica leans on the counter. “Do you need something to bring a little light into your life?”

“Not now that I've met you,” the woman responds with a grin. Veronica is suddenly too aware of how tall this stranger is, and how confidently she carries herself, and her cheeks get warm. “But actually,” the stranger self-consciously clears her throat, “I do need to buy flowers, yes.”

“Oh, right. What kind of arrangement are you looking for?” Business brings Veronica back. Who is she buying for? A lover (hopefully not), a friend, just for herself?

“Well, I’m trying to kill a guy…”

Veronica erupts into laughter. “And you want to buy him _flowers_?” Despite her incredulous amusement, her brain is already conjuring up ideas for the perfect ‘get ready to die, motherfucker’ bouquet: a little bit of black ribbon, a few purposefully wilted blooms, maybe some poisonous blooms…

“I’m not going to kill him yet!” The woman protests, but she’s smiling too. “I just want to scare him a little, make sure he doesn’t sleep at night.”

“Okay,” Veronica takes a deep breath. “I think I can work with that.”

They discuss budget, important thematic elements, and timing. Veronica learns this mysterious woman’s name, Lynn, and that her target had tried to kill her a few months ago. She also learns that the intended ‘victim’ of this gift was none other than notorious Tops casino owner Benny Gecko. After a few minutes of idle discussion, Lynn pays almost one hundred and fifty caps up front (‘keep the change’, she says with a smile) and leaves.

Veronica clears her head and gets to work. For dramatic effect, Lynn wanted the bouquet anonymously delivered that evening, so she could let Benny get paranoid before their confrontation the following morning.

She starts with a dark glass vase, one she’s been saving for a special occasion gift. The bottom layer is mostly greenery. She chooses a fresh bunch of cypress recently delivered by a caravan from the north. Cypress symbolizes death. Further towards the middle, a few sprigs of bright basil sprigs lend some texture to a row of dark red chrysanthemums. More death, with some hatred sprinkled in. Next, a framing for the top: a few bunches of Elegant Death Camas. Poisonous and with a great name. It's perfect. In the middle, a few rare black Calla Lilies (also poisonous, of course) stick out, lending an ominous edge to the bouquet.

To finish, she ties a thick black ribbon around the vase, slipping a handwritten card from Lynn in the ribbon. Veronica leans back in her chair, admiring the arrangement from afar. She adjusts few sprigs, adds a little more basil, then looks at the clock: it’s just past five o’clock. She digs in her desk and pulls out a Strip passport.

* * *

Veronica doesn’t see Lynn for more than a week, but she hears the rumors.

“Did’ya hear about the murder at the Tops?” One of the Kings calls out to her as she unlocks her shop.

“Crazy news, eh?” Francine Garrett comments when Veronica stops by to pick up some dinner.

“Tops hotel owner Benny has been killed by an unidentified assailant. His former right hand man Swank…” Even Radio New Vegas reports on the exciting story. 

Customers continue to trickle into her store, and her life seems to have returned to normal. Or as normal as her job can get.

“An apology bouquet? What is it for this time?”

Pacer shuffles his feet. “One of those four-eyes over at the Mormon Fort. The King, uh, decked one of them.”

Veronica is already pulling out some favorites. “Of course he did. Tell me,” she starts with some pale green sagebrush and Mojave thistle. The Followers weren’t fancy, so something simple with local plants would suffice. “Did he punch Julie?”

“Nah,” Pacer patiently waits, hands in his pockets. This is not the first apology bouquet he’s picked up.

“Or maybe the blond one?” Veronica slips a few wild raspberry branches. Raspberry: a little bit of remorse.

“Gannon?” Pacer shakes his head. “No, he doesn’t see patients, remember? The King tried, though. He batted his eyes a bunch, but, and I quote, ‘Overt flirtation will not actually get you everywhere’.”

“Smart man,” Veronica chuckles. A row of Aster flowers, and her arrangement is nearly complete. “Maybe the King should buy him flowers too.”

Pacer’s eyes light up. “Great idea! I’ll mention it to him.”

“Ugh, forget I even said anything,” Veronica groans and ties a ribbon around the small bouquet. A pleasing mix of purple and dusty red, with some gentle white accents. Aesthetically pleasing and simple, not too expensive either. Pacer carefully counts out thirty-five caps, then heads out.

Veronica sighs. At least the Kings are honest customers, and they buy from her on a regular basis, for a few reasons: Her shop is next door to their ‘School of Impersonation’, and the King has enough spare money to spend on flowers. He is also the most dramatic man this side of the Colorado.

That doesn’t make them any less annoying.

* * *

Veronica adjusts the hood of her tunic to more fully shade her eyes from the morning sun. Even this early in the day, the sweltering heat presses on her shoulders. She shifts a shallow basket to rest in the crook of her arm, bending down to carefully cut the stem of a Broc flower. When she could, she picked her own wildflowers instead of having them delivered from a caravan. There were a few areas that were plentiful around downtown New Vegas. Right now, Veronica was a stone’s throw from the New Vegas Clinic.

While she picks, she thinks about Lynn. She hasn't seen her in almost a week. Veronica worries, biting her lip, hoping she’s okay. She frowns. She don’t even really know her. Why is she so worried? Flower after flower goes into her basket. The wasteland around her is quiet and still.

The silence is broken by the sound of a body collapsing to the dirt behind her. Veronica whirls, nearly dropping her basket.

“Are you okay?” She falls to her knees at the person’s side. They’re wearing a dusty set of combat armor. Veronica takes off their backpack and carefully rolls them over, relieved by the obvious rise and fall of their chest. Whoever this is, they’re still alive. The only sign of serious injury is a rough and bloody bandage wrapped around their left leg. “Come on,” she grunts and lifts them. It’s a short but tiring walk to the doors of the clinic, the unconscious person’s feet dragging on the ground behind Veronica. Ugh, why are they so tall? She shoulders open the door to the clinic.

“Welcome to the-oh dear!” Dr. Usanagi’s hands fly up to her mouth at their entrance, then she composes herself and gestures to one of the guards. “Bring them to the back.” The guard helps Veronica lug the person into a bed. Dr. Usanagi gently pries off their helmet.

Veronica gasps. “Lynn?”

“You know her?” Usanagi asks, already checking Lynn’s breathing and pulse.

“Yes…” It is indeed Lynn. She’s wearing new glasses and has a few more scars, but it’s undoubtedly her dark red wiry hair and serious face. Veronica leans against the wall while the doctor works.

“Good news,” Usanagi lays a cool washcloth over Lynn’s forehead, then stands up and addresses Veronica. “The wound on her leg isn’t that bad. The bleeding has mostly stopped. What knocked her out was actually a combination of exhaustion and the heat. Probably some dehydration mixed in there too.”

Veronica’s shoulders relax. “Thank goodness it wasn’t something worse.”

“That’s for sure.” Dr. Usanagi says and then walks out of the room, leaving Veronica and a still-unconscious Lynn alone.

Veronica freezes. Should she leave too? Immediately, her first response is no, of course not. So she pulls up a stool and sits at Lynn’s bedside. Though the room has a few other beds in it, there seem to be no other patients in the clinic today. Veronica leans on the bedside table, chin in her hand as she watches Lynn sleep.

She frowns. What the fuck? Is Veronica really just sitting her watching her? She rubs her eyes. That’s kind of creepy. Lynn mumbles something and starts to stir. Veronica quickly stands up from her chair, then decides that would be even more awkward, so she hastily sits back down.

Lynn’s eyes flutter open. She tries to speak, but coughs instead. Veronica quickly hands her a bottle of purified water from Lynn’s backpack.

“You’re in the New Vegas Clinic,” Veronica explains. Lynn’s eyes open wide when she sees her.

“Veronica?” Lynn sits up, the washcloth falling into her lap. She frowns. “What happened?”

“You collapsed. Doctor said it was from heat exhaustion and dehydration.” To her surprise, a hint of worry creeps into her voice.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Veronica frowns too, taking the empty water bottle from Lynn and throwing it in the trash. If she had water in her pack, why didn’t she drink it? “Are you feeling alright?”

Lynn shrugs, head turned away from Veronica. “I guess.”

“Really, though?” Veronica presses. For some reason, this is important. Lynn doesn’t _look_ alright. She looks worn in all the wrong places, bags under her eyes, new scars on her hands. “I mean, Lynn, if you’re not okay, you should really-”

“I’m _fine,_ okay?” Lynn snaps, fisting her hands in the stark white sheets. “I don’t need you nosing into my business. I. Am. _Fine_.” She closes her eyes. “I don’t need your help.” 

Before she can open her eyes, Veronica’s gone. She leaves a small pink cactus flower on the bedside table.

* * *

One afternoon, an NCR soldier pokes his head into the shop.

“H-hello?” he stutters, nervously smoothing down his uniform coat. He’s wearing a red beret, a symbol of the 1st Recon sniper unit.

“Hi,” Veronica warmly smiles. “What are you looking for? Don’t see many NCR folks in Freeside these days.”

He pulls down his face wrap and straightens his glasses. “My friend is r-real sick, so I wanted to get her something to m-make her feel better.”

“Got it. Do you want a vase with it?” It’s a subtle way of gauging someone’s budget without outright asking. Intact glass is hard to come by these days.

He pulls out something from his bag. “No, thanks,” he holds out a slim wooden vase. “I m-made this for her. Can you p-put the flowers in it?”

Veronica whistles. It’s made out of light wood, roughly but ornately carved in delicate and flowing patterns, obviously made with a great deal of care. “Sure thing. Here, take a seat.” She sets a stool in front of the counter. He tiredly sits down and rubs his eyes.

“You must be really worried about your friend,” Veronica comments, starting with some small ferns. ‘Get Well’ bouquets don’t require lots of greenery. The important thing is that they’re bright and cheerful.

“W-we all are.” He suddenly seems to remember something, and digs through the pockets of his jacket. “Actually,” he pulls out a beat-up wallet and sets some bills on the counter. “My squad all pitched to b-buy her this, so you can make it a l-little fancy.” Veronica raises her eyebrows at the stack of NCR bills: $250, equal to about 100 caps.

Veronica works in silence for a few minutes, deftly arranging bright yellow and orange flowers. “So what’s wrong with your friend?”

“Well, she’s n-not injured or anything,” he looks upset, and Veronica is immediately kicking herself for asking. She’s just putting her foot in her mouth again. “But she’s r-real sick in the mind, you know. Some bad stuff h-happened,” his shoulders hunch forward, “And we couldn’t get her to get h-help at first, but she’s finally seeing s-someone about it.”

“That’s good for her.” Veronica puts the finishing touches on the arrangement. “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Me t-too,” the soldier responds, gently picking up the vase. He cracks a brief smile. “Thank-thanks a bunch!”

When he’s gone, Veronica yawns and rests her elbow on the counter. She pulls out a book on the history of pre-war motorcycles, but doesn’t get more than a few pages in before the bell above the door jangles again. A familiar person shuffles in. Veronica stands in surprise.

“Lynn!” Despite herself, Veronica’s smiling. Their last conversation had very abruptly ended, but Veronica hadn’t taken Lynn’s anger seriously. She hadn’t meant it, Veronica was sure. “I haven’t seen you in a while!”

Lynn brushes some dust off her armor. “Yeah,” she avoids Veronica’s eyes, “I’m in town for some business, so I figured I’d just stop by…”

“Well,” Veronica swallows hard. What was she hoping for, a heartfelt apology? “It’s good to see you again.”

An awkward pause falls. Then they both speak at once:

“Lynn, I’m sorry about-”

“I’m sorry-”

They both share a giggle, then Lynn sobers and speaks first, cutting off Veronica with a raised hand.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I was being a jerk, plain and simple. You really helped me out of a rough situation, and I yelled at you for it. It’s just,” she steps forward and takes Veronica’s grimy hand. “It’s not easy for me to open up to people, and I guess I didn’t want you to, I don’t know,” she chuckles, “pity me or something. So I overreacted, and I’m really sorry about that.”

Veronica’s speechless, both from the sincere apology and the closeness of Lynn. “T-thanks.” Lynn’s eyes shine brighter now, her complexion richer, all traces of paleness chased from her cheeks. “You look good.”

Lynn bursts into laughter. “Really being a little forward there.”

Veronica’s laughing too, blushing at her unintended compliment. She composes herself. “You want to stay and chat for a minute?”

“Sorry, can’t,” Lynn shakes her head and frowns. “I actually wasn’t being coy when I said I was just stopping by. I actually need to go see the King about something.”

“Really?” Veronica’s surprised. What business could Lynn have with the Kings?

“Yes, I’m actually trying to see what I can do around here to improve things.”

Veronica pats her on the shoulder. “Good luck, then.”

“I’ll probably need it,” Lynn grins and opens the door, the bell cheerfully chiming. “I’ll stop by again, if that’s okay.”

Veronica nods. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 16, 2018
> 
> I tried to stick to wildflowers that are native to the southern Nevada region, since that would be what Veronica would have easy access to. Anything even remotely exotic is delivered by caravans, and therefore significantly more expensive. 
> 
> Background Arcade/the King is my new favorite rarepair???? More pairings to come. 
> 
> Lynn wears glasses and I think this is the first time I've ever acknowledged this fact.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is in the air in Freeside this week.

The rusty bell over the door jangles.

Veronica looks up from her book on weather patterns and nearly jumps in surprise.

“This a flower shop?” A female ghoul asks. She’s dressed in a plain t-shirt with a tattered lab coat thrown on top.

“Y-yeah,” Veronica replies. She’s seen ghouls before, of course, but to her knowledge, the only one living in Freeside was Beatrix. She’s also surprised to see someone so early in the day: it’s only been a few minutes since she opened the doors. “What can I help you with?”

“Name’s Keely, and I got a real nice girl I work with,” Keely explains, taking Veronica’s offered chair with a grateful nod. “She’s always got my back, and we’ve gotten real…close.” She fondly smiles. “And I don’t normally do things like this, but I want to get her something real pretty.”

“Sure thing!” Veronica pulls out some tissue paper. “Vase or no vase?”

“Nah,” Keely waves her hand, “I’m not aimin’ to spend a lot. Just something small and simple, but real nice-looking.”

Veronica hums, grateful for the honesty. She starts with some small greenery, delicate wisps of thyme and ferns. “So,” she adds a few wild chive blooms, “what prompted this gift?” Veronica sits back for a moment, torn between two flowers. Does pink or white go better with the soft purple of the chives?

“I got into a real pickle,” Keely answers. “Girl couldn’t come in herself to help me out, but she did everything she could to make sure I got help. Sent someone in after me, even when my good-for-nothing boss had pretty much left me to die.”

“Geez, that does sound like a real sticky situation,” Veronica settles on both pink and white, ducking into the makeshift storage room for some buckwheat. She fluffs up the big bushy flowers. Nice. This bouquet has a good texture. But it still needs a focal point, something to really draw the eye. “She must really care about you.”

Keely looks distant, and smiles. “Yeah.”

Veronica frowns at her selection of flowers, ignoring the way her heart gave a painful twinge at the lovesick drawl in Keely’s voice. She wipes her hands on her apron. She tries a peony at first, but sets that aside and slips in first a tulip (too underwhelming, too pale), then a sunflower (too overpowering, too bright), then hesitantly picks up a single red rose. She slides it into the middle of the bouquet.

“Perfect.” Keely nods as Veronica ties a pink ribbon around the stems. “Angie’ll love it.” She pays, and gives one last wave over her shoulder as she leaves.

* * *

“Letter for you, ma’am!” Mick and Ralph’s crier pokes his head into Fab Flowers and hands Veronica a thin envelope. She quickly deposits a few caps in his hand and sends him on his way with a smile.

She quickly opens the envelope and pulls out a letter, which is written in a densely-packed but neat handwriting.

> _Veronica,_
> 
> _Ralph and I’s ten-year anniversary is next weekend. We’re not doing much besides a nice dinner at home, but I want to surprise him. Could you make an arrangement for the table? Payment enclosed._
> 
> _Thanks,_
> 
> _Mick._

Veronica peeks back in the envelope and finds $300 NCR dollars. She whistles and tucks the envelope away. Love is in the air this week.

* * *

“Ah-achoo!” Lynn sneezes into the crook of her arm. “When I asked about your garden, I didn’t expect it to be this,” she sniffles, eyes red, “this, ah-!” She loudly sneezes again.

“Sorry!” Veronica quickly steers her back through the back door and into the store. “I didn’t know you were allergic.”

“It-it’s fine,” Lynn blows her nose on a faded handkerchief, the embroidered letters _LH_ barely visible. “I’ll just look at it from the window.”

“So,” Veronica puts a hand on Lynn’s shoulder, “as I was saying, I was only able to get this small space outside,” she points out at the alleyway. Only a small section is untouched by rubble. In that section, Veronica had torn up the concrete and planted dense rows of flowers and plants. In every possible nook between bricks, hardy succulents peeked out between wiry vines. “But these are only the plants that can grow in full sun. The rest is inside or on the roof.”

“The roof?”

“Oh, yeah,” Veronica points up a narrow stairwell. “Here, let me show you. I promise it’ll be better than the garden.” She leads the way up the stairs. “I live on this floor. Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, the works! I’ve even rigged up some hot water. It’s not as high-tech as,” she stops herself. “As, well, some places.” She jogs up the next set of stairs before Lynn can respond. “This floor is where I store random stuff,” she indicates the broken chairs and dusty lampshades, “but most importantly, I can get up onto the roof from here.”

“Wow,” Lynn puts a hand on one hip. She’s wearing a set of reinforced combat armor. It’s a good sign: every time Veronica sees her, she’s better equipped. Her guns are bigger and shinier, her backpack larger and more organized. She’s got stimpacks hanging from her hip, good boots on her feet.

“It is pretty cool,” Veronica admits. “I like being able to see the sky.” She clambers up a small ladder and shoves open a trapdoor.

“Let’s go up,” Lynn suggests. “We can watch the sunset or something.”

So they settle down on the roof, sharing a creaking lounge chair. Lynn very casually puts an arm around Veronica’s shoulders, who leans into her embrace. Half of the roof is shaded by a large wicker covering, dimming the hot sun to a bearable temperature. Plastic pots with more exotic plants are scattered across the roof. Like everything about Veronica’s store, it’s bright and cheerful without being overwhelming.

The sun dips over the edge of the buildings. Veronica’s head rests on Lynn’s shoulder. They sit and appreciate the stillness, the sweet scent of flowers. Down the street, a few Kings are rowdily singing. The lights from the Strip cast a warm glow over her face.

“Hey,” Lynn whispers. Veronica doesn’t stir, and now Lynn can see that her eyes are peacefully closed, her chest quietly rising and falling. Lynn smiles. She brushes a wispy lock of hair from Veronica’s forehead. Despite herself, her hand lingers on her pale cheek, then she lets it fall to her side.

Lynn looks at the Strip, at the glittering tacky jewel of the Mojave. She sighs, then leans back in the chair and yawns, her eyes slipping shut.

* * *

The door to her shop is thrown open and almost collides with the wall, the bell wildly swinging back and forth.

“Hey-” Veronica starts to admonish the person who barged in.

“Please make me the most romantic bouquet that ever existed,” The King pleads. Veronica sighs. “A dozen roses wrapped in red tissue paper!” 

“No,” Veronica sighs again and shakes her head, “hold on a second, just calm down.”

The King dramatically sits down. “As you wish.”

“Okay, now what happened?” Veronica can already guess what happened.

“The heart of that man, an impenetrable fortress!” The King leans an elbow on the counter. He sighs. “You’d think a doctor would be more, more caring!”

“So he rejected you. Again.”

“I thought no man or woman could reject the flirtations of the King, but-”

Veronica immediately sees the problem. She doesn’t know Doctor Gannon very well, not being in the habit of visiting the Old Mormon Fort, but she guesses that he’s a pretty down-to-earth guy. After all, he does work with the Followers. It’s shocking that the King is so intent on pursuing him. Normally, the leader of the notorious gang doesn’t show much interest in anybody.

“That’s the problem,” she interrupts. “It’s exactly that. Your _flirtation_. Are you serious about this man or not?”

“I am.” He looks sincere for once, frowning slightly.

“Good.” Veronica is secretly relieved and a little surprised. “Now you just need to make him see that.”

“With flowers?” The King looks hopeful.

She rubs her temples. “No. Actually, yes, I can still make you something, but no. You need to make it clear. Tell him yourself that this isn’t just some casual thing you’re looking for.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Okay. I think I can manage that.”

“Good.” Veronica thinks for a second. “Vase or no vase?”

“No vase. It needs to be something simple, homely. Maybe put some succulents or something? He would like that.”

“Now we’re thinking right!” Veronica is already imagining something beautiful and round, earthy and tasteful.

“Maybe a red rose, right in the middle.”

“Nope,” she doesn’t even look up from arranging some short spiky grass. “That’s too cheesy for something this important. We’re sticking to natural-looking stuff here. Does he like cheesy stuff?”

“No…”

“Didn’t think so.”

She works in silence for a minute. Some succulent sprigs do make their way in, lending some interesting texture. She adds blue-purple chicory (has medicinal uses), Mojave lupine (sticking with the purple theme), prickly pear flower (nice pop of orange), and more greenery (holds the whole thing together). Finally, the King speaks up.

“What about some broc flower? Arcade does research with local plants.”

“Good idea,” Veronica is already reaching for her stash of the common desert flower. She appreciates the thoughtful idea of incorporating his interests. Maybe there’s hope for them yet. “And…done!” she ties a white ribbon around the stems.

“Thanks a lot, Veronica.” The King puts a frankly oversize pouch of caps on the counter and goes to leave. “Any last pieces of advice?”

“Just be yourself. But,” she quickly clarifies, “don’t be, like the ‘King’ you, but the _you_ you.”

“Thank you, thank you very much,” the King takes the bouquet and leaves. The bell over the door softly rings, a sharp contrast to his abrupt entrance.

* * *

“Letter for you again, ma’am!” Mick and Ralph’s crier hands her another envelope one day. Veronica confusedly opens it. It’s only been a few days since her last letter. Who else could be writing to her?

This envelope is heavy and jangles when she shakes it. She pulls out a letter, almost tipping out a collection of caps. The handwriting is different, a scribbled slanted mess, but she manages to read it.

> _Dear Veronica,_
> 
> _This Saturday is the ten-year anniversary of Mick and I’s relationship. We’re not doing much, but I want to get him a gift, a reminder of our first date. Could you make a bouquet for me to give him? I would like it to have sunflowers in it, if you have any. Oh, and a bright red ribbon. Payment is enclosed._
> 
> _Thanks a lot,_
> 
> _Ralph._

Veronica laughs. Both of them asking her for something? It’s no wonder their relationship has lasted ten years: they clearly think along the same lines, and both want to show affection and commitment for the other. She sets that letter with the other one. If only all couples could be as loving as Mick and Ralph.

* * *

Veronica and Lynn walk hand in hand away from the gates of the Strip, back-lit by the neon casino lights. They’re both dressed up, Lynn in a dark grey suit, Veronica in a pale green dress.

“That was a great show,” Veronica remarks. “The new talent at the Tops is really knocking it out of the park.” They leave the Strip gates behind, heading towards Veronica’s apartment.

Lynn hums. “Tommy’s a good manager. He can make even the lowliest of singers into artists. He-whoa!” She gasps and dodges to the side, clumsily crashing into Veronica’s shoulder. A pool queue swings through the air and barely misses her.

“Give me all you’ve got or you’ll get hurt!” A ragged bandit brandishes the pool cue at them. “Now hand it over-ah!” He reels from the unexpected punch to the nose. After landing that solid hit, Veronica nimbly hops backwards to Lynn’s side. “You b-”

He’s interrupted by the distinctive sound of a gun cocking. “Fuck off,” Lynn snarls, arm outstretched with an ornately decorated pistol pointed between the bandit’s eyes. Her other arm is resting protectively on Veronica’s shoulder.

He glances nervously between Lynn’s furious face and the gun in her hand. “O-okay,” he wipes blood from his broken nose with a shaking hand, almost dropping the pool cue. He backs up a step. "Okay." 

“Good.” With Lynn’s face half in shadow, her dark eyes look even darker, her glasses casting menacing shadows over her cheeks. “You won’t get a second chance. I see your face again, I won’t be so merciful.” She motions with the pistol. He backs up even further, then turns and runs, disappearing down an alley.

Lynn finally lets her arm drop to her side, the pistol held loosely between her fingers. “You okay?” She asks, turning to Veronica, hand still tight on her shoulder.

“I’m good,” Veronica shrugs. “Didn’t even hurt my hand.” She shows her right hand, the knuckles barely red. She reaches up with that hand and gently pries Lynn’s hand from her shoulder and holds it.

Lynn finally lets her shoulders relax. She slips her weapon into an inside pocket of her suit jacket. “That was a great punch. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Veronica shrugs again. “Around.” The words are on her tongue:  _I was part of the Brotherhood of Steel_ , but they stick there and refuse to leave. It’s like some part of her doesn’t fully trust Lynn yet. She trusts her, sure, but does she _trust_ her? The question itself worries her. “I didn’t always sell flowers, you know.”

“What did you do? Before the shop, I mean?” Lynn leads them towards Veronica’s store.

Veronica hesitates, but Lynn doesn’t notice. “Scavenging technology for a group of…people.” Lynn frowns at that, catching the ambiguity. “I’m done with them now, though. Too many bad ideas, too much stagnation.” Veronica swallows hard. “So I left. I do this now.” They’re at her door, the ‘closed’ sign hanging over the door.

“Okay.” Lynn squeezes her hand. “That’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it.” She almost sounds like she means it, but there’s a glimmer of hurt in her eyes, the silent question of _why can’t you trust me?_ “I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” Veronica steps closer. They’d be almost face-to-face, if Lynn wasn’t several inches taller. “Will I see you again?” She inwardly winces at the vulnerability in her voice. It’s only their first real date, why does she have to sound so _needy_?

“I’ll be out of town for a few days,” Lynn says. “Got a weird radio signal on Pip-Boy the other day. But that should be finished up pretty quick. Maybe,” she shifts and smiles hopefully, “we can do this again next weekend?”

“Sure thing.” Veronica hesitantly draws close, wanting to chase away the doubt lingering in Lynn’s eyes, the way her posture is just a little too stiff. One hand goes to Lynn’s waist, the other to the side of her chin. Her heart is beating in her ears, the adrenaline from the fight earlier mixing with her nervousness.

Lynn quietly gasps, eyes widening behind her thick-framed glasses. Veronica’s freckled cheeks are red, her brown eyes bright beneath bushy expressive eyebrows. She takes a moment to appreciate the wafting floral scent that sticks to her, even out of her quaint flower shop. Veronica lives and breathes flowers, petals stuck in the deepest corners of her pockets, in the creases of her hood, in the earthy atmosphere she radiates. Then Lynn presses forward and closes the distance, pressing her lips to Veronica’s.

And between them, their mutual affection blossoms brighter than all the lights of the Strip. Veronica melts into her arms with a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut. She’s warm and solid, grounding Lynn in the moment. This matters now, _she_ matters now. And her thoughts briefly wander to her upcoming mission, a mysterious message beckoning her. Lynn has to make sure she comes back. Running into things headfirst, that won’t work anymore. Not when she has someone to come back to.

Veronica pulls away first, but only a few inches. Her hand has moved to the back of Lynn’s neck, her fingers brushing her short hair. She tucks her head to rest on Lynn’s shoulder, her nose brushing her ear. Lynn shivers and tightens her arms around Veronica’s waist. In the distance, music wafts from an alley.

“Good luck,” Veronica whispers, not knowing what else to say:  _Sorry for kissing you? Thanks for kissing me back?_

“Thanks,” Lynn pulls away. They stand facing each other in front of the door. “See you soon.”

“Goodbye. Stay safe out there.” Veronica suddenly feels awkward. She quickly digs her keys from her purse and unlocks the door. She takes one last look at Lynn, then goes in and closes the door behind her. As she locks it and walks up to her apartment, discarding her low heels on the way, a bubble of excitement grows in her chest.

She can’t wait to see Lynn again. Next weekend couldn’t come fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 19, 2018  
> A simple there-and-back mission? Should be easy. Or not...  
> Can you imagine dating an Elvis impersonator who takes Elvis a little too seriously? 
> 
> Fun fact: Mick and Ralph absolutely share a bed. They only have one king-sized bed, the other one is a small bed for their crier/kid.
> 
> I have learned far too much about the local flora and fauna of the region. Also, do traditional notions of flower meanings (roses meaning romance) really last into the Fallout universe? Some things are obvious, like the roses, but others would be more subtle and probably lost to time. 
> 
> Me @Veronica: why can't you stick to the script. You were supposed to tell her about the BoS this chapter and not kiss her until next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Veronica drums her fingers on the counter. It’s a Friday afternoon in her empty shop.

She sighs. It’s been almost a week with no sign of Lynn, despite her promise that she would only be gone for a couple of days. This week has been long and boring: no unusual customers walking through her door telling of fantastic stories of Lynn’s exploits. Not even any of the Kings have paid her a visit. Veronica’s trying to be rational, reasoning that Lynn must have just run into a little trouble, or maybe found someone who needed to be rescued. But while her brain says that nothing’s wrong, her gut feeling says something far more pessimistic.

Veronica stands up and moves to the door to flip her sign to ‘closed’. This late in the day, she’s not likely to get any customers. She might as well eat an early dinner and go to bed.

The door opens before she can get to it, the cheery bell sounding loud in the dusty silence. Veronica’s heart soars at the noise, expecting Lynn to walk through the door. But to her crushing disappointment, it’s someone else.

“Miss Santangelo?” One of the White Glove Society members, dressed in a pristine suit and wearing their signature mask, holds his cane between two delicately gloved hands. Before the door closes behind him, Veronica can see two finely armored mercenaries standing outside. Considering the roughness of Freeside, they’re warranted, and Veronica’s surprised that he didn’t bring more.

“Yes, sir,” she nods respectfully, putting on a tired smile. The casinos, in particular the Ultra-Luxe, are some of her best customers, so it’s worth it to be a little more formal than usual.

“We have been more than pleased with your past arrangements,” he says. “We would like to request something a little more elaborate for a very special event a week from tomorrow.” He hands her a folded piece of paper.

She unfolds it and raises her eyebrows. Five large arrangements for their members-only banquet table, and two coordinating smaller ones for the adjacent bar? Plus two white carnation corsages for Mortimer and Marjorie? _That’s a lot of flowers._ Inwardly, she sighs with relief, thinking of her slow week. _With a job this big, I could put this money away for a rainy day, and never have to seriously worry for a long time._ “You said this is next weekend?” she asks, glancing over the color requests. White and cream for the main colors, with pale blue accents. Nothing new there. The casino is even providing the vases.

“Yes. They need to be delivered at six-thirty, a half an hour before the banquet at seven. Report to Marjorie first to gain entrance to the members-only room. Half-payment up front,” he hands her a jingling coin purse, “the rest you’ll get from Marjorie upon delivery.”

“Understood, sir. Thank you.”

The White Glove member nods to her and turns to open the door. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He leaves just as elegantly as he came.

Veronica slips the paper into a folder designated for upcoming special orders, then flips the ‘closed’ sign over her door. She stands in front of the door for a second, undecided. Should she go out and walk around Freeside, or just stay home? _Maybe Lynn will be back. I should go out and check._ She pauses with her hand on the doorknob. _No, she probably isn’t. And even if she is, I should stay home. That’s where she knows to find me._ She turns off the lights in the shop and trudges upstairs to her apartment.

_Maybe tomorrow she’ll show up._

* * *

Veronica waits another couple of days. Just after lunch on Monday, she tapes a note to the outside of her door: ‘store closed. Be back soon’. It’s a rare cloudy day, a relief from the August heat. A few of the Kings wave at her when she passes by their ‘school’. She idly asks them about Lynn, but they shake their heads.

She stops by the Wrangler first, but neither of the twins have seen Lynn recently. She thanks them anyways and buys some crispy squirrel bits, munching idly on them as she walks past the criers standing on the corner. Her next stop is Mick and Ralph’s store, who both laugh and thank her for fulfilling their anniversary requests. They mention that Lynn had stopped by their store for some extra stimpacks and ammunition right before she left, but haven’t seen her since.

“What about you, Rotface?” Veronica flips the old ghoul a cap. “Seen her around?”

“Not since over a week ago. She was heading east.” He pockets it and coughs. “But I’ll give you a tip for free: someone else asked me the same question yesterday.”

Veronica frowns. “Who was it?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know, but I feel like I’ve seen him around Freeside a couple of times. Real pale guy, short hair, sunglasses.” He pauses. “Least I think so. He was wearing a hat, couldn’t see his face real well. Hope that helps.”

Veronica walks back towards the North Gate, stomach uneasy. The mysterious man asking about Lynn doesn’t overly bother her: Lynn seems to be in the habit of making friends. Maybe someone else was just as worried as she was. Speaking of friends, there’s one last place she could try: The Old Mormon Fort. It’s a slow day for the Followers, only a few doctors scurrying around the shaded courtyard. Some of the tents are empty.

“Veronica,” Julie looks up from a clipboard and walks over to greet her. “What brings you here? Do you need medical attention?”

“No, just looking for someone. You know a woman named Lynn?”

Julie smiles. “Sure do. She helped us get a stable source of medical supplies a few weeks back. Haven’t seen her in a while, not since a week or so ago.”

“Thanks,” Veronica sighs and rubs her eyes. “I’m just worried that something’s happened to her. She said she was only supposed to be gone a couple of days.”

Julie thinks for a second, then her eyes light up. “You could try talking to Arcade.” At Veronica’s look of confusion, she clarifies. “She talked to him before she left. Got some medical supplies, I think. He’s back in his tent, in the back on the right.”

“I’ll try that,” Veronica pats Julie on the shoulder and heads back to the tent Julie had indicated. She peeks in. “Arcade Gannon?”

Arcade, a tall blond man with glasses, startles and swears. He’s leaning over a small mirror on a desk, a shaving razor held to his chin. He almost knocks over a small bowl and brush when he turns to grab a rag, dabbing at a small bead of blood on his jaw. “Yeah, that’s me. What do you want? If you need medical help, go see someone else. I don’t see patients.”

“Julie sent me to ask about Lynn. Sorry for startling you,” Veronica rubs the side of her head, a headache starting to bloom behind her eyes.

Arcade hums and turns back to the mirror. “Yeah, I know her. She said she was going on some mission, needed some extra supplies, wanted someone to know where she was, just in case. That was,” he frowns at his reflection, “last Sunday, I think?” He squints and leans in close to the mirror, angling his face up to get under his chin. “She should have been back by now.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. Do you think something happened to her?”

“Maybe.” Arcade dips a rag in water and rinses his face, then opens a small rusty jar and starts spreading the substance inside over his cheeks. “She wasn’t going far, though, just to some place south of Lake Mead. Not too far from Novac, she said. I sketched out a quick map from her Pip-Boy, if you want to look at it. Were you thinking of going to try and find her?”

Veronica shrugs. “I don’t know.” _He’s right. Lynn should be back by now. Maybe-_ Pressure starts to build up in her head. To her horror, tears well up in her eyes, and she tries to choke them back but sniffles instead.

“Oh my god,” Arcade notices her distress and looks distressed himself. He abruptly stands up from his chair and guides her to sit down, a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, Lynn’s a total badass, right? She can take care of herself.”

Veronica nods and angrily swipes a few tears away. _Ugh. I hate this. I need to pull myself together. What’d she think if she came back and I was a total mess? They always said I was too sentimental for my own good._ “Yeah.” She forces a smile. “I mean, she got shot in the head but she’s still here.” Veronica takes a deep breath and smells the warm earthy plant smell of Arcade’s tent, the sharp herbal tang of his shaving balms. It vaguely reminds her of her own shop. There’s even a few broc flowers scattered on Arcade’s desk, piles of cacti leaves heaped next to the trash can.

“Right. _Fluctuat nec mergitur_.”

“Hm?” Veronica sniffles one last time.

Arcade rubs the back of his neck. “Tossed by the waves, yet it does not sink. Sorry.” He coughs in an obviously fake manner. “Anyways, she’s strong. She’ll make it. Offer’s still on the table if you want to go out and look, though.”

Veronica shrugs. “I’ll think about it.” She sighs and turns to leave.

Julie Farkas pokes her head into the tent. “Arcade,” she urgently hisses, “he’s here.”

“What?” Arcade scrambles for a footlocker under his bed and starts pulling out random pieces of clothing. “I’m not _ready_ , Julie.”

Julie sighs. “I’ll stall for you. And don’t bother messing with your hair, it looks great how it is. But remember, you owe me one for having to deal with _him_.”

“Thanks!” Arcade calls, already taking off his shirt and tossing it on the bed. He throws a fresh denim shirt over his tanktop. The shirt is light and short-sleeved, suitable for the sweltering weather.

“What?” Veronica turns her back out of instinct, but Arcade doesn’t change any more clothing items, to her relief. “Who’s here?” The realizations hits her. “Are you going on a _date_?” She peeks over her shoulder. Arcade is polishing his glasses on a rag. He nods, eyes squinted and cheeks faintly red. “Hold on. Are you going on a date with the _King_?”

Arcade jams his glasses back on his face and quickly checks his reflection. “Yeah. Thought everyone ‘round Freeside knew about it.”

“Well,” Veronica’s mood is instantly lifted by the good news, “last I’d heard you rejected him. Glad to see he finally stepped up.”

“Yeah, I thought he was just looking for a pretty face,” Arcade admits, smoothing out a wrinkle in his collar, “but I was wrong. So I’m letting myself give this a chance. Anyways, I’ve got to go.” He pauses. “I’ve got a day off on Wednesday. Come stop by if you want to go looking.”

Veronica remembers something. “Wait! Have you been asking around about Lynn?”

Arcade raises an eyebrow. “No, why?”

“Oh.” Veronica frowns, thinking that the person Rotface described might have been Arcade. But no, the old ghoul would’ve recognized someone so distinctive. “Has anyone stopped by besides me to ask about her?” Arcade shakes his head no. “Well,” _it must just be someone random,_ “good luck with your date!”

Veronica walks home in the quiet Freeside afternoon. The Wrangler’s not bustling like normal, the lights of the Silver Rush shine a little less bright, as if Lynn’s absence has muted the city, made even the brightest of Veronica’s flowers seem pale and limp.

She walks into her shop and feels a sudden urge to pull out a wide vase, a pair of shears, all of her equipment. She starts with greenery, popping into her garden to clip some basil. _Something small, something that means something. Our first meeting._ While she’s out there, she snags some desert aster, the yellow center of the small white flowers lending a cheerful note. _Patience._ She arranges a few Queen Anne’s Lace blooms. _Home. Come home soon._ A few de-spined prickly pear cacti leaves. _Endurance. She’s going to make it._ A single sprig of dusty purple sage. _Long life._ Delicate whitish clover. _Think of me. How could I stop thinking of you?_ A handful of light purple violets.

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than normal (and a little later than I intended), but school has been putting me through the wringer these last couple weeks! So this chapter is a little more interlude-y than it was supposed to be, and accidentally set up this fic to be much longer than I had originally planned. Damn you, sneaky foreshadowing!
> 
> Where's Lynn? We'll find out in the next chapter (though you could probably easily guess)!

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Veronica's chapter 3 bouquet [rough sketch.](https://owlaholic68.tumblr.com/post/165454558249/tried-to-sketch-the-chapter-3-bouquet-from-my-fic)


End file.
